Everymanhybrid untitled Document
2.27.1975 Every so often, as expected, the children, seem to suffer a “group-relapse” so to speak. Occasionally, a single one may seem to experience mood swings and other emotional inadequacies, but those are generally “normal” at such an age. It just pains Maryann and myself so when they all go through relapses. It’s never an individual occurrence, these episodes. It’s never Evan, acting out alone. It’s never Jeffrey shouting nonsense, or Vinnie spouting Biblical verses. No. When it does occur, it’s always each and every one of them. After the episode is “finished, each of the children become very reclusive, with Stephanie perhaps being the most affected. They may refuse food and lock themselves in their rooms for hours on end, not making a single noise. They may simply sit on the kitchen floor, staring off into space. The post-incident emotions generally tend to be solitary events. Not very pleasant for our family. The most recent of these incidents happened just yesterday. Two days ago, Maryann called me frantically from a store in town. The children had gone missing. She told me that they had been writing and acting out a play about pirates; she hadn’t seen or heard from them since. They had been missing since mid-morning. Maryann thought that they might had made a small trip into town. No one else had seen them. We were nearly hysterical. Around ten pm last night, our phone rings. A few police officers had been around the house that day in order to help begin a small search for them, but they didn’t promise much and insisted that we stay optimistic. I answered the phone and wouldn’t you know it: Jeffrey was on the line. I demanded to know where he was, where his siblings were. They were in Pennsylvania. He handed the phone to an adult and I almost exploded, calling him a rapist and the like, until he informed me that he was “Officer Matten” of a local police department, and so on and so forth. The children were safe, yet hours away. We had to drive and pick them up. Officer Matten was incredibly reassuring, well, at least in hindsight he was. I don’t think I was very jovial about the whole incident. He said he would have driven them some distance himself, but he was not sure he could use the department’s vehicle for something like that. We were terribly relieved... but you know the children had a whole wave of explanations to look forward to. After talking to the children for a few moments, it became quite clear that they weren’t goofing off, that they didn’t simply “run away” - that this was another episode. After hours of driving into the night, and waiting out a brief snowstorm just over the border into PA, we found this secluded restaurant that Matten told us to meet us in. He didn’t want the children waiting at the dirty old prison and he knew the proprietor of the restaurant, so he waited with them there. It was very early in the morning when we finally arrived; the sun wouldn’t be rising for a few more hours. However, the proprietor of the tavern was apparently a kind spirit and did not mind keeping the fireplace roaring and the front door unlocked for the night. A few other locals sough refuge from the increasingly violent snowstorm outside. It seems that we had made it just in time. The roads were becoming icy and the Pocono roads were already treacherous enough as they were. Some were tourists, staying in the nearby cabins owned by the motel. Apparently, the children had ended up near this small resort town, aptly named “Memory Town.” The owner seemed to be in his element, as if this storm was just another occasion to entertain and take care of the people around him. Meals were ordered and made, no fare was collected. The leather sleeves that were generally used to house bar-tabs and restaurant bills sat uncollected among the scattered groups of family in the comfortable tavern. The children sat near the rear windows, looking out into the freezing lake that the resort town was built around. I was moved by Maryann’s interactions with the children. We agreed that pressing on them hysterically would only lead us into more frustration and anger. Gradually, bits of conversation came from our children: It’s not like we did anything wrong - we were just playing a game. - We used to do it all the time in the home doctor, I mean every weekend we played these games. - He got us there in an instant, I don’t know why it too us so long to get home. -We just wanted to find the hidden treasure. What frightened me the most, was the honesty exhibited in their pleading explanations. If they weren’t lying, there was something terribly wrong. And if they were honest, which I believe they always are... then I don’t know how they easily traveled this far. Or, something is terribly wrong. My children were taken from my house, transported over three hundred miles Eastward, all in search of a whimsical “treasure” and all under the guidance of this “figure” - yes; something is terribly wrong, indeed. -Corenthal, 3.23am Category:Slenderman Category:Journal Entry